Thereby Hangs a Tale
by Gevurah
Summary: All fairytales contain a grain of truth, but over the centuries, that truth has been forgotten. Perhaps that's why no one suspected their involvement in Draco Malfoy's disappearance. Post HBP.
1. Prologue

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,  
And what strength I have's mine own,  
Which is most faint. Now 'tis true  
I must be here confined by you  
_- Prospero's Speech, The Tempest_

_June, 1997_

The hex, red and bright in the darkness, streaked through the night, narrowly missing him on the left, and Draco swore he could feel the heat upon his pale cheek as it shot past. He wheeled instinctively with a curse on his lips and wand raised, his momentum causing his dark robes to swirl about his thin frame and his pale hair to fly wildly. Beside him, Professor Snape turned as well, his own wand leveled at their rushing opponent.

"Run, Draco!" the elder man shouted before advancing toward Potter, his tall, lithe body tight with tension and restrained rage.

Draco heeded his professor's words and ran. He ran like the hounds of hell nipped at his heels, with the air blazing in his lungs and his pale hair, wet from exertion, slapping against his face and stinging his eyes. Stress and fear propelled his naturally long stride further, until it felt as if he was nothing more than burning breath and aching limbs as everything was momentarily scoured away by the overwhelming _need_ to reach the gates. There was no thought of future beyond leaving Hogwarts, where, should he be caught, he would surely be killed for his deeds- or worse. There was only the knowledge that he must escape. As he neared the looming gates, Draco raised his wand to the ready, preparing to Disapparate, and shot one last glance over his shoulder for Professor Snape.

It immediately became clear that his Head of House was in no danger from Potter, as the older man towered over the boy toppled on the ground, and so Draco felt no qualms about being the first to Disapparate from the scene. As he performed the incantation, his gaze fell on the dark towers of Hogwarts and their illuminated windows, knowing that it would be the last time he set eyes on the school. As the spell was completed and the world rushed around him, Draco Malfoy found himself oddly unsettled by the notion.


	2. Chapter 1

**Thereby Hangs a Tale**  
_A Story by Gevurah_

_Disclaimer: _Copyright claims the _words_;never the _story_.

_Credit Given Where Credit Due:_ Original idea formed while reading the highly amusing Mystery Hogwarts Dungeon 3K and the Ferret!Draco therein.

_AN:_ If it takes a village to raise a child, then it must take army to create a story. Betas who have donated time to this story: EmpressMalfoy, Meelie, Meucci Warlock, Miss Josephine and sdragon19.

**PLEASE NOTE:** Chapter One has been drastically revised.

* * *

**One**

_Nine years later..._

It was very late, or rather, very early. Most of the candles had extinguished themselves long ago, having melted into pale puddles of wax that sprawled across the aged wood of her desk. Save for the scratching of her quill against the heavy parchment, there was little noise in the small, cramped apartment. Somewhere in the night, amid the dark corners and impossibly winding rooms, Machiavelli, her dark tabby, kept keen watch over the night.

Megaera knew it was late, but she loathed stopping. She was so _close_ to finishing tonight. Anymore, it seemed as though the few hours in which she was able to work had shrunk into such a tiny allotment of time that it often felt as if she never filled more than a single sheet of parchment. Quickly, with the impatient air of one who disliked pausing even for a moment, she re-wet the tip of her quill in the inkpot and pushed an escaped lock of dark hair behind her ear. Her hand scrawled across the paper surface with a distracted grace that was far from her normally tidy script, unheeding of the tower clock's toll in the distance as it sounded the hour from the city beyond her window. As her mind jumped ahead to sentences not yet written and ideas only half formed, the late hour passed steadily into morning and it wasn't until the last, suffering candle sputtered and finally extinguished that her harried movements ceased. Startled from her work by the dying hiss of hot wax, she blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the weak light that hovered within the room.

Lit by the faint blush of dawn, the master bedroom looked even plainer than when seen in proper daylight. The worn bed curtains, once handsome, heavy blood-velvet, looked positively threadbare in the pale light and the poor braided rug that sat in the middle of the small room was of no better quality than a common dishrag. Somewhere over the years that had passed, the lustre of her family, once bright with both talent and wealth, had diminished until nothing remained save for dusty shelves and an empty Gringott's vault.

Straightening from her hunched position with a soft exclamation of breath, she released the quill that was clenched within her fingers and let her head drop back in exasperation against her father's high-backed chair. Once again, the night had passed without her realisation, allowing the dawn to creep stealthily to the window and leaving her with an irritated sense of lost time. It mattered little how close she was to the end now, for she knew if she didn't retire immediately she would never wake in time to open the shop. And one day of lost business was one she could ill afford.

So it was that she found her way in the thin light of early dawn to the lone wide bed, whose sheets were still rumpled from the previous night's troubled sleep. Her unceasing brain rummaged through the ideas her research planted even as her head hit the threadbare pillows. When sleep finally claimed Megaera moments later, she dreamt of rolls of parchment that never seemed to remain filled as the inked words she scribbled disappeared as quickly as she could produce them.

---

"Mother, I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from driving way my customers."

Rubella Märchen sniffed disdainfully. She watched as the youth in question lolled aimlessly outside the shop, hands in his pockets and eyes wide as he openly stared at the passers-by. "We don't want his kind here, dear," she said. "He's much too young and quite obviously lost. Doubtless another pubescent muggle-born who thinks he can control Dark Magic." Her mother sniffed again. "Gryffindor, no doubt. He _reeked_ of misplaced nobility."

Megaera paused, her long, thin fingers lingering over the dark binding of the book she'd just re-shelved, and rolled her eyes heavenward. "Honestly, Mother. I can't be bothered to care _who_ they are, as long as they have coin. Harry Potter, himself, could pop into the shop and I'd still sell him a book. Providing they pay in cash, I don't care who they bloody well are."

Rubella looked affronted as she turned from her window watching, her sharp features accentuated as her mouth puckered disapprovingly. "That was in very bad taste, Megaera," she said in a clipped tone.

Her daughter shot her a look of exasperation before turning back to her work. The enchanted bin of books diligently followed her progression as she migrated from row to row, replacing yesterday's purchased stock and reorganizing texts misplaced by browsing customers. "You know as well as I, Mother, that we can't afford to turn away even a single willing customer," she said at last, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two women.

In truth, business was bad for everyone and _Märchen's Rare and Enchanted Books_ was better off than some of its peers. With war tensions brewing, few cared to wander the shadowed lengths of Knockturn Alley, which remained under the ever-present gaze of the Ministry Aurors. Except for sly Mr. Borgin who never appeared to lack for customers, all of the shopkeepers in the Alley felt the blow of unspent coin. The death of Albus Dumbledore had elicited unexpected results for the Dark Lord's campaign of terror. The resistance had rallied post mortem to Dumbledore's cause and their belligerent mob-tactics forced the Ministry to bow to their demands. By passing ordinances that made it near impossible to purchase 'dark' items, patrons risked serious fines should they be caught by the crimson-clad Aurors who loitered about the Alley. It was only through the continued patronage of a select few clients, whose appetite for knowledge far outweighed their sense of Ministry-imposed morality, that _Märchen's_ door remained open. Their 'contributions', as it were, enabled Megaera to afford their monthly lease and kept the store's stock adequately filled.

The chime above the door jingled merrily just as Megaera finished her rounds and sent the empty container scurrying home to the back room. She wasn't the least bit surprised to see Severus Snape enter the store, dropping his concealment charm and pushing back the dark fabric of his hood as he ducked his head to avoid colliding with the small bell. Purchasing something nearly every week, the former professor was one of Märchen's most regular customers, though, admittedly, one of Megaera's least favorites. This week's prize was an older volume of questionable content and Megaera popped back into the storeroom to retrieve the book before the former professor could ask after it.

Lit by pale, watery light from the high row of squat windows, the storeroom was a quiet place that smelt of parchment, leather and ink. The light illuminated the murkiness that clung to the narrow room and made the dust sparkle as it drifted lazily in Megaera's wake as she wove through the maze of tall bookcases that cluttered the storeroom. As she rounded the last corner, the small bag of rubbish that sat beside the door caught her eye and she sighed inwardly. Her mother could always be counted upon to perform any chore only part-way. Momentarily neglecting Snape's book, Megaera slipped into the narrow back alley and deposited the bag in the bin.

Devoid of life, the alleyway ran the length of both Diagon and Knockturn Alleys and was the dividing point between Muggle and magical. It was there that the Ministry silencing charms fell away, allowing Megaera to hear the sounds of Muggle London clearly from beyond the tall brick wall that divided the two worlds. Inaccessible from the main Alleys except by way of the shops, no one used the alleyway for much other than to deposit their trash and store crates and barrels of inexpensive goods. When she was a child and tensions were less palpable, the shopkeepers were much more trusting and none had ever bothered to lock their backdoors- most had even charmed them to stay open in order to catch any breath of breeze in the height of summer. Nowadays, everyone was suspect and merchants would rather swelter than provide an easy entrance for either side of the war.

And a war it was. The skirmishes had not yet touched either Alley, but they were fought nearly every night in the depths of the countryside, allowing to populace to read about them in the papers over their morning tea. Because of her store's location and wares, most assumed she favored Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but in truth, Megaera didn't entirely agree with the Dark Lord's agenda. Of course, on the opposite hand, Potter's bright ideals were painfully ridiculous and naïve.

Insofar, she knew she had been lucky. Neither side had yet taken an interest in her, allowing her to remain blessedly and inconspicuously neutral, but her luck would only last for so long as Megaera's world tightened with tension. Someday, someone would come and they would make her choose.

Shaking herself from such unwelcome thoughts, Megaera quickly returned inside and locked the door before resuming her pursuit of Severus's book. Her experienced, nimble fingers fluttered over the spines that lined the shelf nearest to the backdoor, knowing exactly which of the unmarked spines to select, and she plucked the thick volume from its shelf with confidence. She turned promptly to return to the front room, but the voices of Severus and her mother gave her pause as she neared the curtained door and she hovered hesitantly, listening.

"I don't know where you get off," her mother was saying, "roaming about the streets as you do- a known murderer out where just anyone can see you."

Severus' tone was deceptively smooth. "Going to turn me in, Rubella?" An uncharacteristic moment of stillness reigned and Megaera knew her mother was likely seething over Snape's disrespectful use of her first name. When the silence remained unbroken, Megaera's fingers tightened reflexively around the thick book as she clutched it to her chest. Spying was not something she was accustomed to and Megaera found herself almost afraid to breathe as she eavesdropped on her mother and her old schoolmate.

"Thought not," he concluded at length. "I imagine you're still waiting for that bookish daughter of yours to transfigure herself into something more like her namesake." Megaera could clearly hear the smirk in his voice as he continued and her spine stiffened in response, an action wrought from years of similar torment at the hands of her peers. Old instincts die hard. "It must have been _such_ a disappointment for you to see her grow to be so much like your husband instead. Of course," he drawled, "that must have been helpful when discarding your tenure of the family store." Though _Märchen's_ had passed to her mother after her husband's untimely death, Rubella had little desire to continue with the bourgeois lifestyle she had married into. _Märchen's_ had been in the older woman's possession less than four years before she transferred ownership to Megaera immediately following her Hogwarts graduation, some two decades earlier.

"At least I had a child, Severus." Rubella's tone had turned frigid and Megaera thought it was a wonder the windows hadn't frosted over yet. "The name Snape shall die with you."

"Thankfully so," he said nonchalantly. "I have no wish to see my father's line continued." He paused. "However, I'm surprised you can say such things- given your own daughter's similar state of affairs."

Fearful that her mother was finally crossing a forbidden line, Megaera forged ahead with a purposeful stride, shoving aside the thick curtain which concealed the storeroom door and startling her mother and their customer.

"Severus," Megaera greeted him with a nod. She moved to the register and set his book upon the worn wooden surface. "Will it be just the one today?" she asked, opening the lock box and retrieving several receipt papers. "Or would you prefer to browse for a bit?" Rubella, no doubt unwilling to remain in Severus's presence any more than necessary, shot him one last venomous glare before disappearing behind one of the many bookshelves that ran the length of their shop. Megaera was glad for her departure. Talking to Snape was difficult enough without her mother there to goad the man.

"Just the one," he said, returning her greeting with a curt snap of his head and completely ignoring Rubella's actions. "However, there is a problem concerning payment." He watched with a disinterested gaze as she methodically drew up their transaction with quick, efficient script. Her quill paused mid-sentence and she looked up at him warily.

"Problem?" she repeated with an arched brow.

He flushed, which was something Megaera had never before seen. She found herself morbidly fascinated by his change of complexion. The red was most unflattering. "I seem to be lacking proper funds at the present moment."

"Well, you need not worry about me reselling the book. I can always hold it for you a bit longer-"

"I need it today," he interrupted, having the decency to look uncomfortably embarrassed.

"Well then," she said slowly, carefully setting the quill down, "that certainly changes matters."

"I assure you," he began, "I will pay for my purchase-"

She waved his pledge away with a distracted hand. "I do not accept promises as payment."

He drew himself up and glared at her down the length of his nose, a great feat considering her similar height. "Surely," he bit out, "the fact that I frequent this shop on a regular basis must allow me some position of leeway."

"Leeway, yes," she countered, setting her jaw and refusing to cow before him like a fourth year Hufflepuff, "but not outright thievery."

His dark eyes hardened. "I may be many things, Miss Märchen," he answered in clipped tones, "but I am not a thief. And _no one_ _has__ever_ accused me of being such."

"And I'm not doing so now," she said, casting a dark, warning glare at her mother who peeked from behind a bookshelf. "I am merely insisting on another form of payment."

"Which would be what, exactly?"

"Magical contract."

He bristled. "I shall not enter into any form of Wizarding Debt with the likes of you."

"You can take it or leave it, Severus," she said mildly. "But that is my only offer in coin's stead."

Snape paused, assessing her with a suspicious gaze. "There are rare times when your resemblance to your mother is uncanny," he conceded at length, his air one of grudging admiration.

"I'll thank you not to insult me."

He ignored her barb. "I shall admit to being curious. What would the terms of this hypothetical contract be, exactly?"

"Standard and simple," she answered, summoning a full sheet of parchment with a wave of her wand. "I agree to transfer ownership of this book to you, to which you agree to owe me one boon of equal or lesser value, to be delivered at such time of request."

"That is so open-ended it is not even _close_ to sounding reasonable."

"I said, 'of equal or lesser value'."

"Oh yes," he sneered, "terms which are so easily defined."

"We can include a definition within the contract, if that is what you so desire."

"I _desire_ to have this book today- without the need of a Wizard's Debt."

"I'm afraid that's quite out of the question, Severus. What say you?"

There was a long moment of tantalising silence and Megaera held her breath as she waited for his answer. "I say no," he said abruptly at length, shooting her a dark look as he turned on his heel sharply and stalked from the store onto the street.

Megaera watched mutely through the glass windowpanes as he sneered at the elderly witch who was unfortunate enough to cross his path. She absently wondered if he had forgotten to replace his hood accidentally, or if he simply couldn't be bothered to conceal his identity that evening, the Aurors be damned.

She didn't know why, but something in his appearance saddened her. The Severus of today was more haggard and sickly-looking than the Severus of her schooldays. She had begun to notice the physical degeneration of her former schoolmate in only the recent past months. He had never been one to exemplify good-health, but now he looked positively gaunt. His eyes were haunted above pale, sagging flesh that barely clung to his too-thin frame. She might not especially like the man, but she couldn't help but worry that something was very wrong. He was a part of her childhood; a shadow from her days at Hogwarts when he was a sulky Slytherin and she a shy Ravenclaw. Looking at him made Megaera realise just how far away those days had really become. The girl from those times was well and truly dead; in her place was a forty-three year old woman who lived alone and had fingers that seemed permanently ink-stained.

"Miserable man," Rubella spat, her voice echoing throughout the shop from the balcony at the rear of the shop where she was dusting the shelves with a long, multi-colored plume of feathers. "I'll never understand why your father was so keen about him. And _you_," she said accusingly, as she turned her head to stare at her daughter, "what was it you said to me earlier? Something about not turning away money, was it?"

Megaera groaned inwardly and tilted her head to watch the darkening cloud cover as it broiled threateningly in the early evening sky. She already knew what her mother was to say next. "Hypocrisy does not become you, Megaera, and I don't know where you learned it. Merlin knows your father was always a truthful, straightforward man."

Of course he hadn't been a truthful, straightforward man. It was a fact of which Rubella and Megaera were both well aware. Kieran Märchen had been anything _but_ truthful and straightforward. He'd had numerous secrets, many of which his widow and daughter did not wish to uncover, lest they corrupt his memory. Above all else, Megaera missed her father greatly. Despite his secrecies and complexities, he had been a loving father who doted on his gangly, shy daughter. He had also been the glue that held Megaera and her mother together. Without him, they just seemed to squabble endlessly.

"And here I thought you'd be pleased by my cunning, Mother," Megaera said dryly, turning from the window and banishing the blank contract Severus had declined back to the drawer with a displeased flick of her wand. "One would think your daughter showing a bit of her Slytherin heritage would have made you proud."

Rubella grunted in an unladylike manner. "You best watch yourself, girl, and be careful about which devil you make deals with," she said, pausing in her half-hearted cleaning to stare at her daughter below. "Don't be fooled by his love of the written word- Severus is as manipulative and mean as they come. He was a nasty boy and he's grown far worse with age. You should never make the mistake of forgetting he double-crossed and killed one of the most powerful wizards in living memory."

Megaera was not a fool and it irritated her that Rubella had implied that she had not considered Snape's character. After all, Megaera was only four years his junior and had spent much of her time at school studying the boy of whom her father had been so fond. She had wanted to see what Kieran had seen in the morose teenager, but even to this day, Megaera still found herself unsure of her father's reason for partiality concerning Severus. "Careful, Mother," Megaera said lightly, pushing her mother's warning aside. "From the way you're carrying on, one might think you actually _cared_."

Rubella's eyes narrowed. "You always were an ungrateful chit."

Megaera closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose tightly, wondering where it had all gone so very wrong. "Must you, Mother?" she asked, wishing her fingers were ward enough against the headache that was forming at the base of her skull.

"Must I what? Speak the truth?" her mother retorted, fiercely swiping the feathers over a shelf. "You have always been willful and ungrateful, girl. Ignoring all the nice robes I bought you only to badger your father down here all day, getting dirty doing Merlin knows what; complaining about your inheritance-"

"I was barely eighteen!" Megaera exclaimed, interrupting her mother's rant. "I was still a child and you thrust all of this" --she gestured to the store interior with an angry hand-- "upon me without any forethought on how it would affect my life."

"And still all I hear is _me_, _me_, _me_."

Megaera bit the inside of her cheek and closed her eyes again, knowing from experience that arguing with Rubella would accomplish nothing. "I think it's time for you to leave now, Mother," she said tightly.

"I believe you're right," her mother said sourly, banishing her bright duster with a loud _pop_. "I appear to have overstayed my welcome. I know when I'm not wanted." Rubella's words, though seemingly polite, were laced with thorns and the sharp tone made her daughter wince inwardly.

Megaera remained silent as she watched Rubella gather her things, choosing instead to sit wearily on the stool behind the counter as her mother left the store in a foul temper. Once the older woman was gone, Megaera crossed her long arms on the smooth wood and laid her head upon them, sighing quietly. It had always been this way between them, even before her father's death two decades earlier- though it had been worse between her parents. There were few memories as vivid as the nights when Rubella and Kieran had argued, her mother not caring that Megaera could hear and her father unable to hold his peace any longer. Their arguments were always loud and bitter, leaving the pair at odds with each other for weeks afterward and Megaera caught in the middle. It seemed to be a cosmic joke that now Megaera, who was like her father in almost every way, replaced Kieran in today's arguments. Perhaps her passionate mother was simply destined to spend all her days fighting with the quiet, pedantic Märchens.

The bell above the door chimed again and before Megaera could right herself, a cutting voice broke the silence that had reigned in Rubella's absence. "Well done, Megaera. I see you've _yet again_ managed to drive your mother away."

"I'm afraid I'll never live up to her expectations of me," she returned, straightening and offering him an unenthusiastic smile. "I didn't expect to see you back so soon, Severus."

Snape scowled. "I fully intended not to return," he admitted, "but witnessing Rubella in an ill temper is one of the few joys in my life and I thought to congratulate you on your achievement."

It was a poor excuse and they both knew it. "So am I to assume that you've changed your mind regarding the contract?" she asked mildly.

His gaze was speculative. "With a few conditions of my own."

"Of course," she said with a polite nod, summoning the blank contract back from its drawer.

"Firstly," he began, "you can't expect me to deliver upon any impossible or overtly outrageous demands. I reserve the right to refuse anything I deem to be excessive."

Megaera shook her head adamantly. "Absolutely not," she said. "It's entirely too dependant on your own opinion. I shan't have you refuse a request simply because you deem it to be too far away and can't be bothered to walk across the room to get it. Besides," she added, "I did say 'of equal or lesser value'."

"Fine," he said snidely. "But you accept the first clause?"

"Yes," she said, performing a quick transcription spell over the document. "I promise not to request anything ridiculously outlandish."

"Secondly," he continued, "I cannot be expected to provide that which is not mine to give."

"Agreed."

What should have been only a few minutes of discussion, Snape prolonged into near an hour of tedious negotiations as he repeatedly subtilized the details of their agreement until Megaera was sick of his quibbling and threw down her quill in protest.

"Enough, Severus," she said, glaring sharply at him as she stood from her previously hunched position on the stool. "You bring new meaning the phrase 'splitting hairs'." Placing her hands at the small of her back, Megaera arched her spine and felt the bones re-align themselves with a satisfying _crick_.

He countered her glare with one of his own. "Pardon me if I choose to protect myself in this arrangement."

She threw her hands in the air. "Gods, Snape! You've 'protected' yourself from nearly every possibly angle- and then some!"

"Obviously not," he said, "we still haven't covered your loose terminology of 'free and unpardonable items'..."

"No," she interrupted impatiently. "We're done, Severus. We've covered everything. Are you so paranoid that you think I'm going to cheat you?"

"You still could."

"But I won't!" she exclaimed. "You've known me for nearly thirty years! Have you ever known me to cheat _anyone_?" Though he pursed his lips disapprovingly, he grudgingly shook his head. "That's right," she continued, "nor will I start now. As much as it may vex you, I am an honest woman and I run an honest shop. The Ministry be damned."

He looked bemused. "Now that you've gotten that out of your system, perhaps you'd like to direct it at those it was meant to be directed at?" She followed his gaze to the window and the Auror just outside. Megaera scowled and turned away from the loathsome sight.

"You lucky I charm my windows," she said irritably.

Severus's lips quirked minutely. "I don't know whether I should be flattered that you take such pains to hide your more _private_"-- he put extra emphasis on the word-- "customers from Ministry eyes, or to be insulted that he sees a dowdy old witch instead of myself." He shot her a piercing glance. "However, I'm rather impressed that you could cast such a complex charm. I seem to recall that you were never naturally talented in that field."

She massaged her temples, her headache had returned. "Your memory is faulty, Severus. I was brilliant in charms, I even won the Fulbert Award in my fifth year. It was transfiguration I could never master. I was McGonagall's bane."

At the mention of his former co-worker, Snape visibly tensed and she immediately regretted her candor and thought to change to subject. "Are we done here?" she asked, gesturing to the contract.

"I suppose we are," Snape said, picking up her discarded quill and quickly scrawling his signature at the bottom. He waited until she had done the same before tapping the parchment with his wand and watching as it magically rolled and sealed itself. "There now," he said, handing the scroll to Megaera. "You have your contract. Where is my book?"

"Would it kill you to ask after it politely?" she asked dryly, pulling it out of the drawer.

"Yes, I'm fairly sure it would."

---

Though it was only quarter past six, the skies were already dark and heavy with thick storm clouds and Megaera could hear the distant threatening rumble of thunder as she carefully locked and warded the shop. It was, perhaps a bit early to close up for the night, but in dealing with Severus, she had nearly forgotten about the owl she'd received earlier in the day, announcing that her order of books had arrived. Norton Kingston was never one to hold customer goods for long, so if Megaera wished to collect her order she knew she would have to do so quickly, else they would be part of his regular wares before morning. The wind was rising dramatically, picking at her robes and tangling the dark cloth between her legs as she rushed down the length of Knockturn Alley. What few shoppers lingered in the streets scurried about their errands, not wishing to be caught in the rain that would surely come and Megaera was of like mind, as she quickly side-stepped a rushing errand-boy before nipping into _Kingston's Magical Imports_.

Like her own shop, _Kingston's_ was a quiet place that hung too far into the shadows which were prevalent along the Alley, though the older store smelled of an unpleasant combination of stale incense and moth eaten robes. Not seeing the proprietor, she silently browsed the merchandise displayed beneath cloudy panes of glass, absently wondering over the origin of a few of the more outrageous oddities. After several minutes, still not seeing either Norton or his son, Megaera gave up browsing and stood before the register, pertly ringing the small bell on the counter for service.

"Miss Märchen," Norton drawled, appearing in the doorway that led to his storeroom, "you finally remembered, I see."

To any of the other shopkeepers in Knockturn Alley, she might have offered them a twisted smile and a sly comment, but Megaera didn't particularly care for the elder Mr. Kingston. She disliked the way his good eye roamed over her person, noting ink stains and torn hems, and she especially did not like the barely concealed contempt in his inflections when he spoke with her. So she only nodded to the older wizard and resisted the urge to deprive him of his only functioning eye. "Please excuse my tardiness, Mr. Kingston," she said stiffly, "I wasn't able to get away until just now."

He ignored her apologies. "I'll be a minute while I find your order," he said, turning back to the storeroom. "Take care not to touch anything you don't wish to buy."

"Insufferable man," she hissed to no one in particular once he had disappeared again. She drummed her fingers against the wooden counter and allowed her eyes to roam the length of his store. _Kingston's_ was not a well-kept shop- dust and cobwebs lingered within the display cases and the dingy walls were in good need of a fresh coat of paint. She didn't always understand her peers who seemed intent on prolonging the stereotypes of Knockturn Alley. They rarely took the pains to make their storefronts presentable. In contrast, Megaera was almost obsessively tidy and despite the cluttered appearance of _Märchen's Rare and Enchanted Books_, every bookshelf was neatly organized and always clean.

As her eyes flicked over the shabby store interior, her gaze was caught by a small, ramshackle cage which was stuffed carelessly between a large basket of miniature skulls and several worn copies of the popular novel, Dark Wizardry. Her curiosity piqued, for she had never known Norton to sell live animals, she moved to stand before the cage and attempted to discern the mystery creature from the heap of dirty cloth that covered the cage bottom.

"Staring is rude."

Megaera was startled and jumped back when the ferret spoke, but her fear was quickly replaced by amusement upon seeing his small form glaring peevishly at her. "Or didn't your mother ever teach you that?" the ferret asked crossly as he carefully rearranged himself amid the ratty strips of fabric. Like his filthy, cramped home, the obviously once white ferret was dirty with matted fur that was in desperate need of a good washing. His eyes were mean and glinted silver in the candlelight, but Megaera thought she saw hurt in them as well. It immediately endeared her to him. Like many women, she had always had a soft spot for hopeless causes.

"You're a snide little thing, aren't you?" she asked, crouching lower to better see him.

"And you're an ugly, stupid thing, aren't you?" he retorted, glaring at her.

She laughed at his ill-temper, earning herself another cross look. "You are adorable," she concluded, smiling at him.

The ferret sat up at this. "Are you cracked in the head, or do you just enjoy being insulted?" he asked seriously.

"Neither, though my mother might believe otherwise," she said, unable to stifle her smile. "What's your name?"

He visibly deflated at her query and looked sullen as he contorted his small body in a tight ball. "I don't have a name."

She frowned. "Why not?"

"Mind your own bloody business," he snapped, baring his tiny sharp teeth.

"Heed your fingers, Miss Märchen," Kingston said crisply, reappearing from the backroom. "He bites. Right nasty little bugger, he is."

Megaera looked up from the cage. "I wasn't aware you sold animals."

Norton scowled. "I don't under normal circumstances, but I made an exception in his case."

"He's wizard bred," she said, straightening from her crouch.

"Of course he's wizard bred," Kingston said, looking vaguely insulted. "You don't see many talking rodents just walking about, do you?" He deposited Megaera's order of books on the counter with obvious disgust before continuing his thought. "Bought him from a regular a while back for myself, thinking he'd make a smart familiar; but he's utterly useless and as mean as a three-legged hippogriff to boot."

"Why not sell him to Midge over at the _Menagerie_?" she asked, inwardly amused by the way the ferret's ears flickered as he followed their conversation.

"For a clever girl, you're unusually stupid today." Norton seemed to delight in insulting her at every turn. "He's obviously illegal," he sniffed.

Though Megaera didn't doubt the ferret's illegal origin, she was certain Midge would have taken him. Midge was a kind-hearted soul and would have undoubtedly found the poor creature a home. "You could always put him down," she suggested mildly as she absently sifted though the titles she ordered.

Norton looked affronted. "And lose a perfectly good ten galleons?"

Megaera nearly choked. "_Ten galleons_? For _that_?" she asked, incredulously gesturing to the ratty cage and animal. "Who are you going to con into paying ten galleons for dirty rat? You'd be lucky if you got two for him."

Norton sniffed. "I wouldn't take less than five."

"I'll give you three."

For as long as she lived, Megaera was sure she'd never forget the look of astonishment on old Norton Kingston's face. "What?" he asked in disbelief. "_You're_ going to take him?"


	3. Chapter 2

PLEASE NOTE: Chapter One has been drastically revised.

* * *

**Two**

Megaera let herself into _Märchen's_ and placed the cage on the counter beside the register before turning to the door and resetting the wards and locks with practiced swiftness. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the ferret stand up on his hind legs as he sniffed the air curiously. It pleased her to see him expressing emotion other than sullenness. As she knelt before the fireplace and closed the shop Floo for the night, Megaera mused over the abrupt change in circumstance in which she now found herself. It was an odd sensation to realise she had just, rather spontaneously, committed herself to the heavy responsibility of caring and providing for another living creature.

Megaera had never been very good at the 'providing and caring for' bits. As a child, she'd inadvertently killed several innocent Puffskeinsand countless houseplants; she'd even been asked to drop her third year Care of Magical Creatures class due to adverse reactions from the animals. Even now, as an adult, normally outgoing and friendly creatures avoided Megaera- inexplicably conscious of her inability. This was just one of the many reasons why she had never seriously considered marriage. If she wasn't able to keep even the simplest of plants alive, Megaera was sure a husband -or worse, a child- was completely out of the question.

She supposed it came as a by-product of her younger years when she had been painfully shy. An introverted creature by nature, Megaera had never properly learned the social skills necessary to maintain anything resembling a relationship. Even her Hogwarts days were spent secluded in Ravenclaw Tower devouring books and rarely participating in the games of her peers. In all of her forty-three years, Machiavelli was her only dependant to live longer than a few odd months, but Megaera assumed his survival was largely his own doing and not in any way related to her own version of 'care.' Even for a cat, Machiavelli was inordinately self-sufficient. Megaera was convinced he took care of her, rather than the reverse.

"I should have known you were working class."

The ferret's voice startled Megaera out of her reverie and she shot him a sharp look from over her shoulder. "Some people must work to earn their living."

"I know," he drawled with his tiny, ferret-sneer, "we call them 'blood-traitors'."

She stood abruptly and put her hands on her hips. "Now listen here, you little rat," she said sternly. "Not only is that an inexcusable stereotype, but-"

"I am _not_ a rat," he interrupted coldly. "How _dare_ you insult me like that."

"But it's also utterly nonsensical," she continued, brushing aside his indignant outburst and crossing the breadth of the room to stand before his cage, "There is absolutely no evidence to suggest that every shopkeeper is pureblood, let alone something so extreme as a blood-traitor." She paused and leveled a glare at him. "Stop trying to get a rise out of me; I get enough of that from my mother, thank you."

The ferret huffed and scowled, but otherwise avoided her gaze. Megaera sighed. "I'm done scolding," she said in a gentler tone as she peered at him through the bars, "and you are in desperate need of a bath." She wrinkled her nose in distaste at his soiled state.

He quickly snapped out of his bad temper and stood on his hind legs with whiskers all a-twitter. "With soap?" he asked hopefully, his eyes shining.

She barely repressed the smirk that threatened the corners of her mouth. "Yes," she said, bemused. "With soap."

"Hot water?"

She chuckled and began to close the shop in earnest. "As hot as you can stand," she said, sending a handful of scattered parchment into a drawer behind the counter.

He bounced on his haunches with barely contained energy. "Now?"

"Shortly," she said as she dowsed the candles, leaving only the fire to illuminate the dim interior.

His short-lived celebration stopped abruptly. "What do you mean _shortly_?" he demanded.

She cast a glance at him form over her shoulder as she charmed the drapes closed. He was like a petulant child, Megaera thought, pursing her lips and fighting against the immature urge to roll her eyes. She wondered who had raised him to be like that. There was something in his inflections and tone that sharply reminded Megaera of her upper class customers.

She stood, her head cocked slightly to the side as she contemplated her new pet. Like any good business owner, Megaera was familiar with her customer's temperaments and she knew that the brand of wizarding family from whom he would have developed such an attitude would never sell him. Those types were generally impossibly wealthy and had a tendency to believe that all things in life were possessions and by association disposable and replaceable. They wouldn't degrade themselves by re-selling a possession; they'd simply kill him and purchase another.

He was a puzzle. And like any respectable Ravenclaw, Megaera loved a good puzzle.

"Just give me a moment to finish closing up," she said, making sure the drapes where completely down and tied securely. Biting her lip, she glanced around the shop until, finally, she was satisfied everything was in its proper place. With a murmured command and a flick of her wand, the fire extinguished and they were plunged into darkness.

"_Lumos_," she said, holding her wand aloft as she crossed the room to collect her pet. After a quick check of the backroom, they began to make their way up the stairs to the balcony and then through the door on the far wall. The door gave way to a narrow flight of stairs and Megaera briefly set down the ferret's cage in order to pluck a tall candle from its holder on the wall. Briefly, the darkness returned as she used her wand to light the candle, but it was soon chased away by the warm glow of candlelight.

When Megaera was very little, her mother used to sing to her. In particular, Rubella liked an old family lullaby her own mother, and her mother before her, had sung. Megaera hadn't heard the song for years. So, naturally, it came as a great surprise to find herself humming the haunting tune as she carried her new pet up the steep back stairs to the living quarters about the shop.

The ferret was quiet in his cage as they climbed in the near darkness. He had barely spoken a word since his excitement over the prospect of a bath, choosing instead to ignore her and moodily burrow himself within his dirty rags. Even in the flickering light of the enchanted candle that followed their progression, she could barely distinguish cloth from fur.

She absently hummed to herself as she unlocked the door to the flat and opened it to reveal her small, cramped kitchen. Setting the ferret's cage on the counter, she lit the lamps with a brief wave of her wand and tossed her cloak on the back of one of the dining chairs. She quickly rolled up her sleeves and turned on the kitchen taps, holding one hand under the running water to gage the temperature. The ferret watched all of this with bland, emotionless eyes as he sat upright on his haunches.

"Don't forget soap," he reminded her tonelessly when she secured the stopper in the bottom of the basin, breaking his self-imposed silence.

She glanced up from the sink. "Take my word for it," she said with a faint smirk, "I haven't forgotten."

He glowered and she had the feeling that he would have crossed his arms if he were able. "I was just checking," he retorted sourly.

She looked at him suddenly, a frown pulling at her lips. "You know," she said, "I'm not even sure why I'm doing this the hard way. I'm sure a quick _scurgify_ and a dash of potion would work just as well."

He bared his teeth at her and gripped the chicken wire with his claws. "Do you know how long it's been since I've have a proper bath?" he demanded indignantly, shaking the wire in his grip. "I want hot water. I want soap. I want bubbles!" His whiskers trembled as he ranted and his voice rose with every demand. "And above all, I want a big fluffy towel-" he paused, suddenly, thinking. "White, preferably," he concluded in a civil tone.

Megaera blinked at his outburst, not quiet knowing how to respond. When he continued to look at her expectantly, she snapped out of her daze and summoned a bottle of shampoo from the bathroom. She glanced at the ferret and poured a measure of the liquid into the make-shift bath. "Happy now?" she asked mildly.

He eyed the sink. "I wouldn't know, seeing as how I'm all the way over here- _in a cage_." he said pointedly.

Megaera pursed her lips and fingered her wand. "You won't run off, now will you?" She tapped the wand against the counter lip. "I don't fancy treating the entire flat for fleas."

He glared at her. "As if I would allow such a common parasite-" She merely raised an eyebrow and he stopped his tirade. "No, I will not run off," he recited dully. He glared at her. "Happy now?" he parroted mockingly.

"Yes." She released the catch on the cage, allowing the door to swing open. He didn't waste anytime remaining in the dirty cage and quickly jumped onto the countertop, where he shook his small body viciously as if to rid himself of the taint of the cage. Megaera watched with a small, half smile as he itched behind one ear and muttered under his breath darkly. With one final shake, he came to stand next to the sink, his nails clicking against the hard surface of the countertop, and studied the swirling froth below.

"A little more," he said contemplatively, swiping one paw the bubbles. She tipped the bottle again and allowed a trickle of soap to escape. "More," he repeated, glancing up at her. "I want _mounds_ of bubbles."

She set the bottle aside and reached for her wand instead. "There's plenty of soap in the water," she explained as she charmed the meager bubbles created by the soap into towering mounds of frothy white suds. "This way is easier."

He nosed the nearest tower of froth hesitantly, as if not trusting her charm-work. "But magical bubbles don't last half as long," he complained, wiping the bubbles from his nose. Suddenly, he sneezed and shook his head, looking a bit dazed.

Megaera grinned. "They'll do fine," she said. "It's not like you're going to spend hours in there anyway."

He scowled at her. "I will if I want to." He stuck one paw into the water and swirled it around a bit.

"Warm enough?" she asked, replacing the potion cap.

"It'll do," he said, still examining the water. She watched as he attempted to find the best method for lowering himself into the bath when suddenly his back legs slipped on the smooth counter and he toppled tail-first into the sink with a large splash. The shocked expression on his tiny as he fell was more than she could handle and Megaera burst into laughter. He came sputtering to the surface and glared balefully at her.

"That was not amusing in the _slightest_- hey!" he exclaimed when she reached into the water and began to scrub his fur. "Stop that!"

She poured a bit of soap into her hands before returning to his coat and working up a good lather "What did you expect me to do?" she asked. "You certainly can't do this to yourself."

"I'm not an infant," he said through gritted teeth, wriggling to get out of her grasp. "I can bathe myself."

"You most certainly cannot. Now close your eyes." Megaera gently held his chin and massaged the soap into his face. He gagged, having gotten getting a mouthful of soap. "I would have thought that closing your mouth would have been obvious," she said dryly, moving to his ears. "Now, rinse," she said, releasing him.

He did as told, dunking himself in the water and shot her another dark look when he rose to the surface. The mounds of bubbles he had insisted upon threatened to obscure his small form completely, and she snickered as she Banished his cage to the rubbish bin. Being white and alone amid the soapy froth, her small pet was all but invisible and Megaera couldn't help but grin at the sight of his disembodied eyes glaring at her.

"I'll be back shortly," she said grabbing her cloak from the chair, still grinning. "Take care not to drown yourself."

He looked up in surprise. "Where are you going?" he asked, hanging onto the lip of the sink.

She motioned to the cloak in her hands. "Change my clothes, hang up my cloak, get you a towel, light the fire." She shrugged casually, "I won't be far and I'll be back in a moment." She didn't give him a chance to respond before she swept from the kitchen.

She cast a quick _Incendio_ at the hearth as she passed through the living room on her way to the hall closet and gave Machiavelli a hard look when she discovered him lounging contentedly in her chair. He flickered his bright yellow eyes in her direction briefly before yawning nonchalantly and jumping to the floor with a deft grace the belied his substantial girth.

After depositing her cloak in the cramped closet, Megaera headed for the master bedroom, undoing the clasps of her robes as she went. She paused as she passed the spare bedroom and backtracked, sticking her head through the open door briefly and surveying the contents. It was hard to believe that it had once been her bedroom as a child, for now it was less of a bedchamber and more of a junk room. Crammed high with tattered boxes and old furniture, she could barely make out the faded rose-pink wallpaper her mother had insisted on putting up so many years ago. Megaera pursed her lips and closed the door tightly before continuing on her way to the master chamber, making a mental reminder to clean the room out someday in the near future. It wouldn't do to have such an obvious death trap lying about with her new pet in the flat.

He was still hanging onto the lip of the sink when she returned, his eyes half-closed and a blissful expression on his small face. "This is better than even chocolate frogs," he purred when he saw her.

She chuckled lightly, wondering where he had ever gotten his hands on those sweets. "I'm glad you think so. Now, come on," she said, holding out the towel she had grabbed from the bath and gesturing for him to get out of the water. "Out you go."

"I don't want to." He pouted. "It's nice in here."

"It's also dirty in there," she said pointedly.

He obviously hadn't considered that, likely too caught up in the bliss of being clean, and quickly scrambled onto the counter. She immediately picked him up with the awaiting cloth. "Hey!" he cried when she sat down at the table and began to vigorously towel him dry. "Bugger off. I can do it myself, thank you."

"No you can't, and need I remind you that you're the one who wanted to do this the hard way. Now stop squirming," she said, attempting to hold his writhing body.

"Careful! I'm delicate, not some sack of potatoes."

Megaera stopped her efforts and lifted him, towel and all, to the level of her eyes. "You can either hold still and allow me to dry you properly," she said sternly, "or you let me dry you the magical way."

He glowered. "I am holding still, you overgrown harpy."

"Stop acting like a child," she said, dropping him once more into her lap and resuming her task.

"I'll stop acting like one when you stop treating me like one." He snapped irritably at her finger.

She sighed with exasperation. "You are impossible." When he made no move to respond she gentled her touch and searched for a new conversation topic. "Well," she said at length, "We should find you a proper name. What would you suggest?" she asked. "I suppose since it's going to be your name, you should at least like it."

He twisted in her lap and looked thoughtful. "I'm rather partial to 'Adonis'."

She snorted and took the opportunity to dry the stomach he bared "I don't hardly think so."

"I also like 'Zeus'," he supplied immediately. "Or 'Jupiter', I'm not picky."

"King of the gods?" Megaera scoffed. "That's rather over the top, don't you think?"

He sulked. "I thought it was quite fitting." He thought for a moment. "What about 'Thor'?" he suggested.

She laughed at his imploring expression. "I am _not_ naming you after any deity or mythological playboy."

"Why not?" he demanded petulantly.

She smirked and scuffed his head with the towel fondly. "I have the feeling that you already have enough of a superiority complex as it is."

"Ouch!" he exclaimed, snapping his teeth at her. "Watch what you're doing! You almost ripped my bloody ear off."

She frowned at him, her affectionate mood abruptly disappearing. "I'm new at this cuddly thing, you know," she said crossly.

He growled up at her and fought to free himself. "Do I honestly _look_ like I want to be cuddled?"

"Fine," she snapped, standing from the chair and dumping him onto the floor. She reached for her wand and cast a quick drying spell. "That was easier anyway. Now shoo," she said. "I have work to do."

"What kind of work?" he asked, staying close to her heels as she exited the tiny kitchen.

She paused and scowled down at him. "Don't you have anything better to do than bother me?"

"Actually, now that you mention it, no, I don't," he said as they entered the living room. "The life of a ferret isn't terribly stimulating." She shook her head and made her way to the wide, red chair that sat sullenly in the middle of the room and sat down tiredly. He paused in the middle of the worn wooden floor. "How very _bourgeois_," he commented, looking around the room.

There was no denying it. The room was very middle-class, with its dark wooden paneling and matching floor, which was barely covered by her great-grandfather's threadbare Persian rug. A large smoke-stained fireplace, with photos of severe-expressioned family members long dead upon its mantle, occupied the entirety of the north wall, while bookshelves covered the remaining walls. They were almost menacing in the firelight as they surrounded the single, aged velvet chair upon which Megaera sat and the small wooden side table at her elbow.

Books claimed every possible centimeter of space, and even some impossible spaces. Large and small, they crowded each other on bookshelves, overwhelmed the small end table and lay in great, towering stacks upon the floor. There were books under the chair. There were books dangerously close the hearth. There were volumes wedged in the narrow space between the tall bookcases. There were even books hanging magically suspended from the ceiling.

From the mantle, her forbearers scowled at the ferret's insult, a few going so far as to make threatening gestures. Megaera, whose temper was wearing thin, shared their ill will. "Now hear me-" she began, sitting down and plucking a book from the side-table.

"I'm hungry," he announced suddenly, interrupting her and scampering up onto the chair arm, using her robes and legs are ladders.

Megaera blinked at the sudden change of topic. "Hungry?" she repeated dryly, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes, hungry," he said. "I haven't eaten properly in months. Feed me," he paused, thoughtfully. "I prefer French cuisine, but would settle for Shepard's Pie if you have it."

She groaned, snapping her book shut and massaging her forehead.

He looked confused. "That wasn't the appropriate response," he informed her.

She scowled, angry with herself. "Of all the days to forget to stop by the market..." she muttered, setting her book aside and pushing back an escaped lock of hair.

He gaped at her, a comical sight in an animal so small. "You _are_ daft," he breathed incredulously. "How could you forget something as basic and essential as food?"

She rolled her eyes, forgoing all pretense of maturity. "Oh close your mouth," she said. "Machiavelli still has kibble"

"What about me?" He pouted. "Don't I matter? Are you just going to let me starve?"

"Of course you won't starve." She stood, scooping him up and placing him on her shoulder before wandering back into the kitchen. "You can share with Machiavelli."

"That's absurd," he hissed in her ear. "Not only is that absurd, that's _disgusting_. I am not eating bloody cat food."

Opening a cupboard absentmindedly, she frowned at the lack of food therein. "What did your other owners feed you?"

"Well, I used to dine on the most expensive delicacies known to man, but you wouldn't know anything about that, being low class." She shot him a dirty look and he did a ferret's rendition of a shrug, holding up his front paws and arching back his head in an act of innocence. "I like chicken," he offered.

"What?" she asked breathlessly, clapping her hands to chest. "No smoked salmon? Filet mignon? You'd lower yourself to eat something as plain and everyday as chicken?"

She hadn't known a ferret could roll its eyes. "Sarcasm does not become you," he concluded dryly.

"That's where you're wrong, my little one," she said, abandoning the kitchen in favor of the living room again, "sarcasm is my dear friend." She plopped back into the chair.

"I'm still hungry," he said, escaping her shoulder and hopping onto the back of the seat. "Feed me before I starve to death."

"Good heavens," she said, shaking her head. "I was wrong- you're worse than a child."

"Feed me," he repeated childishly, his breath tickling her ear. "I'm so hungry I could eat a thestral."

"Okay," she said quickly, struggling for an idea. "What if we compromised?" she suggested, turning in her chair to face him. "Say, Floo-takeaway from the Leaky Cauldron?"

He considered it. "That would be satisfactory. But," he continued as she stood to her feet, "I'm coming with you." His eyes gleamed manically in the firelight. "I haven't been to the Leaky Cauldron in _ages_. I bet I cause _all sorts_ of trouble if I put my mind to it.-"

She wheeled on him and shook a stern finger in his face. "If you even _think_ of doing something," she threatened, "I'll transfigure you into a toad faster than you can say 'Wizard'."

"Spoilsport," he muttered under his breath as she walked down the hall for her cloak.

"I heard that!"

---

Megaera weaved through the maze of tables after having made her order at the bar. In spite of, or, perhaps, because of the torrential downpour outside, the ancient pub was busy and crowded, filled with raucous young wizards and witches who carried on a bit too brashly for Megaera's aging tastes. Carefully avoiding the loud pair of off-duty Aurors who sat at a table in the middle of the floor, she kept to the dark shadows which clung to the walls as she made her way to her secluded table on the lower floor- an action that wasn't very hard considering that the Leaky Cauldron was always cloaked in shadow. Of course, shadows were nothing when pitted against a pair of keen eyes.

"_Miss Märchen_?" asked a startled voice from behind her.

Megaera paused before turning, laying one ink-stained hand on the greying plaster wall and closing her eyes resignedly. The voice was unmistakable, seeing as how Megaera had conversed with its owner nearly twice a month for the past year. _Of course, _she thought irritably. Of all the witches to encounter, Megaera had to happen upon the one who was more obsessed with Ministry rules than the Minister of Magic himself. She _knew_ she should have left the damned ferret home. She glanced behind her and smiled awkwardly at the slight witch. "Good evening, Miss Granger," she greeted.

If the young witch took note of Megaera's lack of enthusiasm, she didn't acknowledge it. "Miss Märchen?" Hermione Granger repeated, blinking in surprise. "What are _you_ doing here?" Megaera raised one eyebrow in question, feeling vaguely slighted. The younger woman flushed in response. "What I meant to say was that I've never seen you at Leaky Cauldron before, and I come to eat here quite often," she explained.

Megaera shrugged and leaned against the wall tiredly. She couldn't remember the last time she experienced such an eventful day. Aside from the casual store traffic, she rarely interacted with many on a daily basis and she was quickly discovering that it was exhausting. "I rarely stay here to eat," she said by way of explanation, "Usually I Floo in just before Tom closes the kitchens and order something to go." She pushed an escaped lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm a bit of a night owl."

Hermione cocked her head, considering Megaera. "Yes," she said thoughtfully. "I can see that about you."

Megaera shifted, uncomfortable with the younger witch's penetrating gaze. "Have the books been of use?" she asked.

Her question snapped the young Miss Granger from her contemplation of Megaera. "Oh yes," she said, her eyes brightening at the thought. "They were most helpful. I especially enjoyed Nina Wiltson's description of the imbuement process." Undoubtedly, Hermione would have rattled on had she not been interrupted by a tall red-haired man calling her name loudly from across the room. She shot him an irritated look and motioned for him to be silent before turning back to Megaera and continuing her thought. "I find a foreknowledge of any process to be reassuring. It gives me the ability to quickly assess whether I'm correctly performing the incantation, or what have you."

Megaera smiled to herself. "I was of the same mind when I was younger."

"You say that as if you've changed your preferences," Hermione said, furrowing her brow.

"Hermione!" the tall redhead called again. He stood near the door and impatiently ran his hand through his vivid hair. "C'mon. We haven't all night, you know." Megaera winced as dozens of eyes were drawn from the loud man to herself and the younger woman.

Hermione's dark eyes flashed and she turned to her friend. "In a minute, _Ronald_," she ground out.

Megaera shook her head, struggling to remain casual in the wake of the room's sudden awareness of her presence, and pushed herself away from the wall. "Go on, Miss Granger," she said, inwardly relieved her conversation with Hermione was coming to a close. She truly liked the younger witch, but the knowledge that her- very illegal- pet was waiting not ten meters away at her table was making her incredibly paranoid. "You shouldn't keep him waiting."

Hermione frowned. "I don't want to seem rude, but our errand _is_ rather important."

Megaera flashed a smile. "I understand," she said, "but you can stop into my shop any day. Go with your friend. Besides," she said, shooting a glance at the open archway which led to the lower dining floor. She could plainly see her table and she frowned when she couldn't see the ferret, "I'm sure my food is nearly ready, so I doubt I'll be able to chat much longer as it is."

Hermione looked uncertain. "If you're sure-"

Megaera nodded and held out her hand to cut her off. "I'm positive," she said. "Really I am."

"_Hermione!_"

The younger woman threw up her hands in exasperation. "Oh, for heaven's sake! I'm coming!" She turned back to Megaera and offered her a small smile. "I'll be sure to stop by sometime later this week," she said in parting. "I'm interested in any other recommendations you might have."

Megaera nodded and watched her go, sighing in relief as the attention of the other patrons also departed. She turned her gaze back towards the corner and frowned again. Where had the little monster gone? With long strides, she quickly made her way to the low stairs that separated the main dining floor from the lower. Skipping all three steps in her haste to reach her table, her eyes flickered over the surrounding tables in hopes of catching a glimpse of white fur. She felt her stomach sink with dread. There was no sign of her newly acquired pet.

Upon reaching her table, she cast around wildly, searching for the wayward ferret and cursing under her breath. "Oh blast it," she hissed, grabbing her cloak and giving it a shake. No ferret. "I _knew_ I should have left you at home-"

"Everything alright, Miss?" Tom asked warily from behind her. In his hands he held her steaming dinner, with an extra chicken breast on the side.

She grimaced. "It appears as though I've lost my dinner companion."

Tom looked sympathetic and set the dish on the tabletop. "They probably just tottered off to the loo, I reckon," he said.

Megaera wasn't convinced and sat down, feeling ridiculously dejected.

Tom smiled kindly and awkwardly patted her on the shoulder as he set the plate down on the table before her. "There, there," he said, "I'm sure they wouldn't up and leave a pretty girl like yourself."

Tom had always acted kindly toward her and she offered him a watery smile. "Thank you."

Her grinned toothlessly at her. "No worries, girlie," he said before returning to the bar. "You know where I am if you need anything more."

Megaera nodded in response and stared at her dinner plate morosely. She'd done it again- she'd killed yet another unsuspecting animal. Well, she reasoned, perhaps _killed_ was a rather strong word, but he was certainly gone and it was all her fault. If only she hadn't left him alone while she placed her order.

She let her head fall into her hands. She was dysfunctional. What sort of horrible person couldn't keep a simple animal alive longer than six hours? Letting her hands drop to the tabletop, she picked up her fork and began to toy wit her food, not feeling especially hungry.

She happened to glance up from her food just as a tall, dark-cloaked figure was standing to leave from a shadowed corner table on the same level. It wasn't the hooded man that caught her attention, however, it was the pale ferret perched on his shoulder. She gasped and dropped her fork with a clatter, jumping to her feet. Awkwardly dodging patrons, she rushed to catch up with the pair.

"Pardon me," she said, grasping his arm, "I believe you've found my ferret."

The man turned at the sound of her voice and she felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of his cold eyes and pale blond hair. Her gaze immediately shot to the pair of young Aurors whom she could plainly see through an open archway leading to the main floor. Only a Malfoy would flaunt his presence not ten meters from the law. He was wanted by the Ministry for participating in an Azkaban prison break and on countless charges of using Dark magic. _Curse Lucius Malfoy's arrogance_, she thought, immediately retracting her hand from his person, as if burned. It wouldn't do to associate herself with him unnecessarily.

She glanced at her pet that was perched on his shoulder. He stared back at her challengingly and she blinked at the startling resemblance of his gaze to that of Lucius's. The color and emotion were identical. It was positively uncanny.

She tore her eyes from the ferret and managed to twist her lips into something resembling a smile. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy," she said, taking care to lower her voice so that it would not carry.

The man raised a single eyebrow, managing to look disdainfully regal in the minimal lighting. "Miss Märchen, is it?"

He knew perfectly well who she was and she felt her smile, though it barely could be called such, slip. "How good of you to remember, Mr. Malfoy," she said. "As I was saying, I do believe you've found my missing ferret."

He turned his head to study the animal on his shoulder. "This scrawny thing?" he asked. "It was the other way around, I'm afraid. It found me." He turned his wintry gaze back to Megaera. "It seemed quite adamant to return home with me."

Her smile died altogether and her eyes flashed. "I think not," she said indignantly, standing to her full height. "Unless you plan on reimbursing the money I paid for him, I'll be taking him with me."

He looked amused and, for a brief moment, she wanted nothing more than to claw the patronizing expression from his face. "Very well," he said at last. He plucked the animal from his shoulder easily and deposited him in Megaera's arms. The ferret struggled, but she held him tightly, determined not to lose him once more.

Lucius brushed at the white hairs the ferret had left on his dark cloak. "It's just as well," he said. "I can't imagine what on earth I would have done with it. Narcissa would have had an apoplexy." His cold eyes drifted to the struggling animal in her arms. "Still, it has remarkable coloring. I'm sure she'd make an exception if I attached its pelt to one of her mink mantles." He looked back up at Megaera and she clutched the ferret closer at the predatory gleam in his eyes. "I've changed my mind, Miss Märchen," he said. "I'll give you five galleons for him."

"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed. "What a horrible suggestion." She backed away a step and the ferret, who had stilled at Mr. Malfoy's words, hissed at him. Lucius looked amused.

"Eight, then," he said easily, "but do take care, Miss Märchen. That is my final offer."

She frowned at him. "This is my _pet_, Mr. Malfoy," she stressed. "I happen to have a personal attachment to him. I will not allow you to butcher him and give what's left over to your wife as a fashion accessory." She looked ill at the thought.

He raised one eyebrow loftily. "So be it," he said dismissively, glancing over his shoulder at the drunken Aurors. "I'd best be on my way then," he said, turning back to her. He inclined his head politely. "I bid you a pleasant evening, Miss Märchen."

She nodded in return and watched him leave, feeling unsettled. The ferret in her hands burrowed closer to her chest and it took her a moment to realise that it wasn't her hands that were shaking, but his body. She looked down at him and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "He wasn't quite what you'd thought he'd be, was he?"

The ferret looked up at her, his eyes wide, but said nothing. She smiled at him again and gazed sightlessly in the direction of Malfoy's departure. "They never are," she said softly, half to herself.


End file.
